


spend the night (alone)

by thedarknesswithin (babylxxrry)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 03:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/thedarknesswithin
Summary: 84.23 points, 10th after the short.[misha needs to breathe. he ends up in nate's room.]





	spend the night (alone)

**Author's Note:**

> for [r]t.
> 
>  
> 
> this was somewhat of an impluse write but i've been meaning to write them for a while so what better than some good old fashioned h/c (kinda lmao) to start it off??
> 
> set the night after the sp at saitama worlds 2019.

Nate has just come out of the shower when there’s a knock on the door. He wonders who it might be at this hour. It wouldn’t be any of the girls or ice dancers, he knows, because they’re all resting up tonight in preparation for tomorrow, and most of the pairs are either out drinking to celebrate or forget. Either way, that only leaves his team or some of the men, and while it wouldn’t be unusual for Raf or the others to stop by and check on him, it’s almost midnight.

He doesn’t check the peephole before he opens the door, which is probably a mistake on his part, but to his surprise, Misha is standing on the other side.

“Misha?” Nate’s not really sure what fever dream he’s having right now. He doesn’t really want it to end, either. He realizes belatedly that he’s only got a towel wrapped precariously around his waist, and he sees Misha’s eyes flick up and down his body. He fights the urge to let the door close.

Misha smiles tightly at him, gesturing towards the room. “Can I come in? Before someone sees.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Nate steps back hurriedly, opening the door a little wider.

Misha steps in and Nate closes and bolts the door.

“Sorry, I just came out of the shower. And the room is a mess, feel free to move stuff around if you want to sit…” Nate trails off as he tries to divide his attention between clearing a spot on the single crappy armchair and finding clothes for himself.

“Stop, Nate,” Misha says. Nate looks up. “Relax, please. Put your clothes on.”

Nate takes a breath and lets it out in a whoosh. “Right, yeah. Clothes. I can do that.”

He hurries to grab underwear and a shirt from his suitcase and ducks into the small bathroom. He presses his hands to his face when the door closes, exhaling sharply. _Pull yourself together, Nathan Chen._  He thinks maybe he should’ve gotten pants, too, when he looks in the mirror and sees that his shirt isn’t as long as he thought it was. Fuck it.

When he comes back out, it looks like Misha has taken the liberty of clearing off the armchair and is now sitting cross-legged, looking small and tired in a way he usually doesn’t.

“Why are you here?” It comes out harsher than Nate intended, but Misha doesn’t seem to notice. He shrugs, pulling his knees in and resting his chin on them. Nate didn’t know it was possible for him to get any smaller, but here he is now.

“I don’t know.” Misha seems to fumble for words for a minute before he finally settles on something. “Heavy, I think.”

“Heavy?”

“Yeah. I feel heavy. There is so much happening all the time, and half the time I can’t breathe. Too many people around.” Misha speaks softly, as if he hasn’t got the energy to do much more. His voice is starting to scratch out, and Nate wants to protect him from the world.

“And the media up our asses, too,” Nate jokes, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t really work, and Nate thinks it’s backfired when Misha scoffs, muttering something in Russian.

“You don’t understand, Nate,” Misha says drily, a humorless smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “How much it hurts to be called most hated skater ever. You do not understand, and you never will.”

Nate feels his eyes widen involuntarily. “Holy shit. Really? They said that?”

Misha shrugs as if it’s an everyday occurrence, and rage boils up in Nate’s stomach. “It happens. Time to time. I deserve it, with this season. And 10th after short program? As useless as it gets.”

“Misha…” Nate doesn’t really know what to say, because Misha’s right. He might know what it’s like to have the pressure of an entire nation on his shoulders, but he’s never encountered anything that harsh. And not for the first time, he wonders how good Misha could be if he were just allowed to _breathe_ for once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Misha pulls the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, shrugging again. “Not your fault. Mine, as always. I should not have come, I’ll leave. You need to sleep.” He goes to stand, unfolding himself from the chair and standing. Nate thinks Misha still looks tiny, despite being an inch taller than him. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, like he doesn’t want to take up the space he passes through any more than he absolutely has to.

“Stay, Misha,” Nate finds himself saying before he thinks about it. “Remember last time?”

Misha stills, eyes searching Nate’s face like he’s looking for a reason to laugh, or to leave. Nate’s not sure which would be worse. _Last time_ was Rostelecom Cup 2018, when Nate had flown out to Moscow. Somehow, they’d ended up in the same hotel room the night after the free, hands fumbling with each other’s clothes, sloppy kisses and whispered curses turning into groans muffled into palms and mouths. Then it’d been a night under the protection of the thin hotel duvets, alarms set to unholy hours so that Nate could get back to his own room long before anyone came looking for Misha.

It was one of the best memories Nate had of this season, up there with each of his medals and the shiny new experiences at Yale.

“No sex,” Misha says cautiously, and Nate watches as he turns to face him fully.

“No sex,” Nate agrees, and he doesn’t know why he’s so desperate to keep Misha here, but he is, and maybe it’s because he needs someone around who just understands, who will exist here tonight with him, who maybe needs the comfort just as much. “Will you stay if I promise to keep my hands to myself?”

Misha wrinkles his nose. “Fine. Okay. Dry your hair. Don’t get the pillows wet.”

“Who do you think I am?” Nate rolls his eyes, retrieving a towel from the bathroom and running it vigorously through his hair until it’s soft and fluffy and dry. He’ll deal with the mess in the morning.

Misha ended up sitting cross-legged on top of the covers, but gets up and untucks the duvet from its neat folding when Nate leaves the damp towel hanging up and comes to the other side of the bed.

“When do you need to be up tomorrow?” Nate asks, grabbing his phone to set his alarm. He burrows down into the covers as he does so.

“Maybe best if I leave by 6:45. My practice is 12:30, but a lot of people like to get up early and I don’t want to see any of them.”

“Cool. We’ll get a little more than six hours, then.”

Misha just nods. He looks tired, and Nate lifts the covers.

“Come on, I’m staying on my side like I promised,” Nate says. Misha gives him a little smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s a genuine smile nonetheless. He pulls his sweater off to reveal an worn, soft-looking t-shirt, and Nate averts his eyes out of habit when Misha kicks off his sweatpants so he’s down to his underwear.

“Goodnight, Nate,” Misha says.

Nate gives him a moment to settle in before flicks his light off, enveloping the room in darkness.

“Night, Misha.”

They lie in silence for a while, and Nate realizes that he’s not going to be able to fall asleep on like this, listening to Misha breathing steadily but not deeply next to him.

“Hey, Misha?”

“Hmm?” Misha sounds like he’s halfway to sleep, and Nate curses himself inwardly for waking him back up.

“Are you alright if we… cuddle?”

Misha seems to stop breathing next to him, but then the covers rustle and Nate can just make out Misha’s face in the darkness, facing him now.

A small, barely audible _da_ fills the air between them. Relief fills Nate’s chest, and he shifts closer to Misha. There’s some awkward repositioning and huffed laughs before they finally settle into a comfortable spot, with Misha curled into Nate’s chest and Nate’s arm draped over his waist. Their legs are intertwined, and Nate can already tell it’s going to prove awkward when they both wake up and have to deal with morning wood, but he can’t bring himself to care because he’s comfortable.

“Goodnight again,” Misha says with a little smile in his voice. Nate can feel the warmth of his breath. It gives him goosebumps.

“Goodnight,” Nate echoes, pressing a mindless kiss to Misha’s head.

Misha stiffens for a moment before he relaxes again, and Nate feels the slightest ghost of pressure over his heart.

 

 

-fin.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you wanted to give misha a hug bc me too
> 
> (also let me know if you'd like to see more of them! i enjoyed writing this a lot :D)
> 
> 4.2.19: [RUSSIAN TRANSLATION](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8088068) by [misskim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskim/pseuds/misskim) (thank you so much!!!)


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